


Would You Be My Lady?

by julialee



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, S6 E8, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julialee/pseuds/julialee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Henry and Tom begin their business adventure Tom starts to notice some slight changes in Henry's appearance and actions (such as friendly touches, staying close to him, a bit too close even, changing his aftershave). Surely he didn't fancy the pants off him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Overflowing Teapot

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason my brain has decided that Tom and Henry would make a great pairing. Here's my attempt to write their story.

"Mary!" Henry hollered.

As Mary went up the steps, she turned a quick glance backwards and Henry looked at her, a silent plea in his glance. She let out a huff and continued up the stairs.

She had ran away from him like the coward she was. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath. He thought that Mary wouldn't choose wealth over love. Oh, how wrong he was! A great wave of anger swept over him, and he balled his hands into fists. He wanted to strangle someone (preferably Tom). After all, it was all his fault. Tom insisted he come here and his letter to him further gave him the impression that she loved him. He had done nothing wrong except believe his every word. And she? He recalled how she practically begged and pleaded for any scrap of time and attention he'd throw her way. But she'd made it clear she never loved him. He had been made a fool of.

With all these thoughts racing through his mind he began to seethe, anger boiling in his blood. He knew there was nothing left for him here now. Suddenly, a strong voice rang through his head, get out of here! He turned on his heel and trotted down the final flight to the ground floor, undoing his tie as he went. Unbeknownst to him, Tom had been watching him for some time.

As Henry fled down the remaining stairs, he chased after him. "Henry! Henry, please wait," Tom called after him. He scuttled down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him, and on reaching the bottom grabbed him by the arm.

Henry pulled away from his hold. "Don't touch me!" he spat, and turned to face him, their noses almost touching. Tom quickly backed away.

When Henry's eyes fell upon Tom, panic fear glued him to the spot. He could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. His face was distorted into a grimace of pure anger, his eyes glazed with despair. He'd never seen him like this before and he didn't like it.

He felt himself shaking from head to foot. He slowly raised his hands in defense. "Sorry," he said, giving him a nervous glance.

Henry's face softened as he saw the fear in his eyes. His face flushed with embarrassment and shame. He'd made Tom afraid of him. He sighed, bowing his head. "Forgive me, I haven't been myself lately."

Tom nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to come here tonight."

He forced a smile. "Nonsense, Tom. You did what you thought was best for her." He couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. One minute he wanted to strangle him, and the next, he was apologizing. He paused. "She's lucky to have you." he said, venom lacing his voice.

Tom flinched at his words and looked him up and down once more. He noted his troubled frown. He was responsible for his unhealthy state. He had told him he should come visit expecting them to reunite. He wasn't expecting this outcome. Now he just wanted to make things right between them."Let me talk to her, try to make her see sense," he urged.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. "In a way, she's right."

Tom rolled his eyes,"Come now, Henry, don't be that way." When Henry remained silent, he began to feel nervous, "Mary's too proud to admit when she'd made a mis—"

Henry sighed and massaged his temples. He could already tell this conversation was going nowhere. He held up his hand to quiet him. "Years from now she would resent me." He stared at him, puzzled. "I will not force her into a loveless marriage."

"But it's not-"

"She could have any man she wanted at the snap of her fingers." A sly smile pulled at his lips. "Even you…if circumstances were different. She'll be fine." he said coldly. How those words stung Tom. He wished the floor would just swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to face him. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and suddenly looked tense.

Henry shook his head. "Goodbye, Tom," he said. He turned and walked out the door into the cold, biting wind.

Tom stood there gaping, his mouth open, as if he'd suddenly gone dumb.

* * *

 2:00 a.m. and Tom couldn't sleep. All he could do was toss and turn. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Henry's face. The look of despair in his eyes. He couldn't get the image out of his head. Frustrated, he rubbed his hands over his face. He needed something to calm his nerves ... help him relax. With a few grunts and groans, he managed to sit up and slide his legs over the side of the bed. He thought back to his conversation with Henry. He claimed that Mary felt more than a sisterly affection for him. How could he believe such rubbish?

He thought back on the way he'd looked then, he'd never seen him that angry. He'd looked ready to strike him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't shocked. But there was a side to him that he never knew, until today. He thought Henry was a big flirt, nothing more. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Mary was right, maybe she was better off without him in her life. He sighed. He didn't have the energy to walk to the kitchen anymore. As he tried to go back to sleep a little voice was telling him he hadn't seen the last of Henry Talbot.


	2. Letter For You, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom receives a letter.
> 
> Mary wants answers.
> 
> Tom goes to the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is alive in this story. The fatal car accident happened to someone else. He does not appear in this chapter, but is mentioned.

Lord Grantham, Tom, and Edith were all gathered around one long table eating breakfast with much enjoyment.

Lord Grantham's eyes were glued to a page in the newspaper. Tom was busy buttering his toast. Edith smiled to herself as she fixed her tea.

Tom waved a footman over to refill his cup.

As the footman refilled Tom's tea, he felt something poke him inside his pocket.

"Oh...I almost forgot," he muttered as he fished around in his pocket. Tom gave him a curious glance.

"This letter came for you, Mr. Branson," Andy said as he handed it to Tom.

Tom glanced down at the blank envelope in his hand. "Who brought this?" he asked.

"Mr. Talbot, sir," he stuttered.

They all looked at one another, baffled and slightly alarmed.

Lord Grantham set the morning newspaper on the table and looked at Andy. "Where is he now?" he asked, his tone serious.

All eyes turned on Andy, who stood frozen next to Tom. His breathing stopped for an instant, and his face drained of color. "I don't know, my lord. He just gave me the letter and left."

"Well, that's odd – very odd, indeed!"

Tom shrugged. "He probably didn't want to intrude."

"We opened our home to him and he just walked away, without any explanation? Then he turns up out of the blue….a very strange man." Lord Grantham shook his head. "I'm glad Mary finally came to her senses and ended things between them."

"It's been almost three months since we've seen him." Edith paused to take a sip of tea. "Surely he can't think he still has a chance with Mary?" she scoffed.

As soon as he began reading the letter, the room became silent.

 

_Dear Tom,_

_The only reason I'm writing you is because you're the only one who wouldn't judge me. I know you may not want to read this knowing we parted on bad terms. But there were a lot of reasons why I acted as I did. One reason being that, the man’s death at the race had taken a deeper cut at me than I'd realized. I haven't been able to get a good night's rest. The accident just keeps replaying over and over in my head like a broken record. I just keep thinking, what if Charlie had died. There's nothing I could have done to stop it...I didn't even know the man. And yet I still feel it's my fault…I didn't realize it then, but now I know I certainly won't race again. And that terrifies me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. Racing was my life, and now it's over. I've noticed that I've begun to lose interest in a lot of things that once occupied a lot of my time…Anyhow, I think I am getting off track here. Mary had me at first glance. That day I told myself that I was going to marry her. She was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I felt alive and for once I thought I could finally settle down and just be happy. I was even willing to give up racing for her. Her rejection was the final blow. All the anger and hatred that kept building up inside me ﬁnally came out. Unfortunately, you were there when it happened. It still doesn't excuse my behavior, but I hope somewhere in your heart you can forgive me. I know I've lost my chance with Mary. I don't want to lose you too._

                                                                                                                                                                                         _—Henry Talbot_

P.S. If you have read this far, I need you to do something for me…At 2:00 p.m. precisely I need you to go to the pub. I'll be waiting.

 

After reading the letter Tom folded it back into the envelope and put it in his pocket.

"What did he tell you?" Edith said, offering him a small smile.

"I'd rather not say," said Tom, glancing down at the untouched breakfast on his plate. Then he drew a long deep breath before continuing. "I don't want to bother Mary with this. So let's just keep things between us."

"I quite agree with you," Lord Grantham answered.

Edith gave them an uneasy look before she sighed. "Mary always finds out, one way or another."

* * *

 With Mary moping around the house and Edith constantly asking him to tell her what was in the letter, Tom had been looking forward to a quiet afternoon. The family had decided to visit Lady Violet and he decided to stay behind. So he sat in the library for half an hour or so, quite comfy and sorting through piles of books beside him.

He had tried to read a book or two but his mind kept drifting back to the letter from Henry Talbot. He should have told Mary to swallow her pride and marry Henry. But now Henry was broken in more ways than one. He clearly needed help and support. He wasn't the man he once was. But Tom was at a loss what to do.

* * *

 Mary passed by the library, and catching sight of the open door, she walked in.

She spotted Tom right away. He was seated on the couch farthest from the entrance, sipping tea as he read. He was not aware of her presence until she was quite close to him.

He glanced up from his book. "Well, you're back early." 

With a nod she wandered around the room. "I was feeling quite tired so I came back," she said. He nodded.

She walked about with her hands clasped behind her back, and her head lifted high. He turned to the next page in the book to continue reading. He could hear her every movement. He found himself getting annoyed. She had been wandering for quite some time. He looked at her strangely.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "Everything's just peachy." she said sarcastically, a stiff grin forming.

She then walked over to the bookcase nearest him. Her fingers drummed against the shelf, "So what's this I hear about you getting a letter from Henry?"

Tom choked on his tea and started coughing. She started walking towards him with a satisfied look on her face.

"Are you alright?" she asked innocently, enjoying herself.

Tom put his hand up signaling her to stop. She paused.

"I'm fine," he said between coughs. When the coughing subsided, he continued."Excuse me a moment," he said.

Then he got up and walked out of the room, leaving Mary alone.

He stomped over to the railing with a scowl on his face. He leaned back against the railing and took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mary walking towards him. He huffed out an exaggerated sigh.

She stood beside him. "What's suddenly got you all tight jawed and moody?" she asked.

"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Mary."

She put her hand to her mouth in feigned shock. "Heavens, you've got quite a temper there."

"How did you know?"

"You're going to need to be a bit more specific."

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm his nerves. "How did you know about the letter?"

Mary didn't look at him and didn't answer, keeping her eyes on the floor with a smug look on her face.

Tom was getting more and more impatient every minute, "Mary," he growled at her.

"Alright. Alright. Anna told me."

"Wait — how did she know?"

She gave him a knowing look.

"Is Thomas getting up to his old tricks again?" She shook her head while she let a soft chuckle leave her lips.

He threw his hands up in defeat.

"If you must know, Andy told her."

She inched closer towards him. He saw her lips draw into a wry smile. Tom jerked back, fear etched on his face.

"Oh," he mumbled.

"Now will you tell me what the letter was about?"

"Can't ... Sorry, Mary, but I can't."

"Why not?" she huffed.

"He doesn't want you to read it." She rolled her eyes. "He's embarrassed," he told her. Her look said she wasn't buying it. "This is a very personal letter. I don't think he wants anyone to-"

She threw her hands up in the air. "Oh for Pete's sake, Tom. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I'm sorry, but I won't go against his wishes."

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"Oh, grow up, Mary," he looked her right in the eye. "You can't always get what you want in this world."

He turned around, and went down stairs as hard as he could go.

She leaned over the railing and looked down at him."Where are you going?" she called out. He did not turn back.

"There's somewhere I need to be."

* * *

 Tom stood outside the pub, shifting from one foot to the other and clenching and unclenching his fists. He took long deep breaths. "Come on Tom, you can do this," he muttered to himself. After running his fingers through his hair, he entered the pub. As soon as he stepped inside he could smell the booze and stale cigarette smoke. He glanced around the half-empty pub.Then he saw Henry, sitting in the corner by himself. He noticed that he seemed a bit on edge. His hair had grown thin, his face pale, and his eyes puffy. He puffed vigorously at his cigar, but his hand shook as he held it.

"Tom!" he exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat when he saw him.

"Hello..." said Tom, a bit nervously.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cigar case.

"Smoke?" he asked. "No, thanks," said Tom.

Tom stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. Henry gave him a smile, and signaled for him to sit.

"I can't stay long," he blurted out.

He saw his smile falter slightly. He scratched the back of his neck, nervously. "I mean, no one knows I'm here, so—"

"It's alright, Tom," he said.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Henry stayed quiet. "The letter, I assumed, had everything you wanted to say." he rambled on, unable to stop himself, "I mean, nothing can be more serious than what was in the letter, right?"

He shrugged his shoulders at him. "I just wanted some company."

"What about…" Tom scratched his chin. "What was his name again?"

"Charlie." He nodded his head. "We haven't been on speaking terms for some time…since the crash." He nodded again. "He still wants to race but I…" He paused and choked back a sob. "I'm sorry." He looked away from him, feeling ashamed.

"I wish I could help you, Henry." Then he shook his head, sighed. "I can't even imagine the pain you're going through." He still did not meet his eye.

He continued as if Tom never spoke. "I felt I was still perfectly capable of driving…but now I don't know. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there, on the race track — I can still smell it — burned flesh."

Tom sat there stunned. Henry snorted and shook his head.

"You must think I'm crazy. It's been months and I still—" He paused.

The two of them sat in silence for awhile. Tom drummed his fingers on his leg. He racked his brain, trying to think what to say. Henry rubbed his hand over his face and sighed heavily. Tom gazed out at the crowd.

"Maybe you should just go. I'm just a mess."

"I'm not leaving you. Not like this."

A tear rolled down Henry's face as they sat in silence once again. He quickly wiped it away with a napkin. He sighed before he began to speak softly.

"You're too nice." Tom stayed quiet. Henry saw how Tom was deep in thought while he looked to the other occupants of the room. He leaned forward in his seat.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

He glanced back at him. "I know this may not be the best idea considering your condition but…how would you feel about starting a business with me."

He looked dumbfounded. "You — you what?"

Tom put his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged. "Of course, I don't know all the details and I don't need an answer right away but—"

Henry's face was split by a huge grin. "Count me in!" He smiled at him.

* * *

 Tom stood in the middle of the garden for a while, staring up at the sky. He breathed a deep sigh. In the cool air he could see his breath. His shoulders hunched, he clutched at the lighter in his pocket. Then he looked down at the letter still held in his hand. "She could never know what she was making him feel," he whispered. He sighed again softly as he pulled the lighter out of his pocket. He flicked the lighter open and shut for a few moments before setting fire to the letter. He watched it burn slowly, and when the flame reached his fingers he dropped the ashes upon the ground.


End file.
